Cured by Kindness by Parish Visitor

Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, Cal. · Aug 30, 1883

Cured by Kindness.

By Parish Visitor

"You oughtn't to do so," shouted Willie, as the butcher dashed past in his wagon, giving the whip unmercifully to his half-starved horse. Another moment, in turning the corner, the wagon was upset, and the horse broke into a run. He ran for a mile or more. The wagon was broken to pieces, and the man thrown out and badly bruised. Next day "the vicious beast" was offered for sale. Willie's father bought him for a low price, for use on the farm. It was a foolish bargain, people said, for the horse was quite uncontrollable. Even his owner said he would bite, kick, and run away. But Mr. Ely bought it to please Willie, whose tender little heart was full of pity for the poor animal. "We will be so kind to him that he won't want to be bad, papa." So they agreed to follow Willie's plan.

Before long, Mr. Ely and Willie began to drive the horse. People were surprised at the change in him. "He would go as slow as desired," said the gentleman who told the story, "stop instantly at 'whoa', follow his master, come at his call, and rub his head on his shoulder." What had made the change? Not force! The poor horse had been beaten, kicked, and starved before, and grew more and more stubborn. Now he was well fed, well bedded, well watered; not over-driven or over-loaded; never whipped, kicked, or scolded. Kind words were given him, and now and then an apple or a piece of sugar. No gentler, safer, or more faithful horse went on the road. Willie's plan had succeeded. The little fellow fairly lived with the horse, and the horse seemed to know he was his best friend. Ben was a favorite with all the family. One night Mr. Ely was away from home. He had taken Ben early in the afternoon, but when bed-time came he had not returned. Thinking he would not be at home that night, the family closed the house and retired.

About midnight Willie heard Ben's neigh. Jumping out of bed he ran to the window, and there was Ben at the door without his father. In a few moments the family were aroused, and Willie's brother hurriedly opened the door. No sooner had he done so than Ben turned around and trotted off toward the road. He followed him quickly. Ben led him a quarter of a mile and then stopped. There Mr. Ely lay on the ground in a swoon. When he was taken home he soon recovered, and told them that as he was riding through the woods he struck his head against the overhanging branch of a tree and fell from the horse. He was stunned by the blow, and did not remember anything more. After that night Ben was the hero of the village. But there was one strange thing about him,—he never forgot either a benefit or an injury. Sometimes when in harness he would see his former master. Then all his old fire would return; his eyes would roll, he would champ his bit fiercely and show an intense desire to get at his enemy. Only Willie or his father could quiet him then. Ben taught the people of that village more than they ever knew before of the power of kindness. And a good many of Willie's little friends began to practice his way of treating their dogs and ponies. They found that the surest way to manage them was by kindness.

This, you know, was Mr. Rarey's way. It was his secret in training horses. If any of our boys have any doubt on the subject, suppose they try it for themselves, for this story of Ben is a true one.—Parish Visitor.